These were, in retrospect, what the dreams I had one morning in December communicated to me. My own "Christmas Carol," only without the pain and only a little scariness for my troubles. Before I share these dreams with the reader, I want to remind them of some other items I have posted, especially regarding dreams, our loved ones, death and continuance beyond it.
So, whether by my mind or by my heart, by Marcie or by the simple process of things working out in all of those, perhaps with the influence of too much meditation and flowing tears, I had a rough but sufficient sleep from about midnight to 8 a.m. December 25th. During it, I had dreams in sequence, waking from each and immediately trying to cram myself back into them, to feel close to her.
As is often the case with dreams along themes, and especially those in sequence, nothing was quite the same when I escaped into sleep and rejoined the dream state. My lucidity in sleep, by the way, is both a curse and a boon. I can remember much, but I cannot always force my dreams to do what I want.
For these dreams, it was best that I wasn't able to. They were perfect how they were. Tomorrow, I will share the first of them, which I will simply call Thoughtfulness, because it was all about that aspect of Marcie.
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